Whitey Poem by Donal Mahoney

On a hot summer day
when no one goes outside
unless they have to, I think

of Whitey, the cat we
found on a December day
in the garage of a house

we had just moved into
and how Whitey
neither tame nor feral

stayed on the property
for years and used the
seasons to her advantage

especially winter.
After a heavy snow
I'd shovel and leave

a clear sidewalk and
small walls of snow
Whitey would sit

next to motionless
waiting for my wife
to spread seed for

cardinals and jays
and mourning doves
to come and feed.

The cardinals and jays
got away but sometimes
a dove would stay behind.